


all the colors turned to white

by multicorn



Series: we are shaped like stars [7]
Category: American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: First Time, Hand Jobs, Infidelity, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Revolutionaries In Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 15:38:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7807525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multicorn/pseuds/multicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>As soon as they get into the room, Alex pushes John up against the wall.  John goes willingly, eagerly, thrilled at Alex’s hand forceful on his chest, right over the pounding heart that’s trying its best to break out through his rib cage.  When his shoulder blades hit the rough plastered surface he groans, and goes up on his toes, and there’s just space enough for an inch further backwards before Alex is on him again.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Immediately after <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6262603">draw it out of me</a>, Alex and John have sex.</p><p>The infidelity tag/warning refers to the existence of Martha Manning (John's wife); the internalized homophobia on John's part, vis-a-vis "a strange cure by the way," is pretty serious, so you might want to be careful of that if it's a thing that bothers you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all the colors turned to white

**Author's Note:**

> This and all of my Hamilton fic treats both the musical and history as sources, drawing on them for things I can use. Historical inaccuracy, especially, is likely to occur, both in its intentional and unintentional varieties.

As soon as they get into the room, Alex pushes John up against the wall. John goes willingly, eagerly, thrilled at Alex’s hand forceful on his chest, right over the pounding heart that’s trying its best to break out through his rib cage. When his shoulder blades hit the rough plastered surface he groans, and goes up on his toes, and there’s just space enough for an inch further backwards before Alex is on him again.

Their mouths crash back together messily, full of tongues and teeth. “You are so - ” Alex says, when they break to gulp in air, but can’t seem to produce the word that he wants, for once. “What are you?” he asks, marvelling.

“I don’t know,” John says. He pulls Alex back in, and shuts him back up with a tongue in his mouth. Alex sucks on it hard and John’s eyes roll right to the back of his head.

Alex’s hands are on his waist, sharp nails digging like claws into the muscle above his hips, and his own hands can’t seem to stop moving, stop trying to touch Alex everywhere all at once. The delicate skin on Alex’s throat jumps under John’s fingertips when he swallows. The soft and prickly barely-there fuzz on Alex’s chin tickles intriguingly. And when he runs his hands down the outsides of Alex’s arms, pausing to feel every bump of bone and twist of sinew, Alex stops kissing him - why? - and takes a step back.

John tries to follow him, unthinking, but Alex’s hands on his hips squeeze harder, holding him back against the wall. Alex’s eyes are dark, pupils wide, his lips wet and red and swollen, his hair sticking out on all sides in disarray. And he looks at John like he’s starving, and John’s a plate full of meat.

“What would you like?” he asks.

John swallows. Oh, God, _this_. Pleasure and a glorious death. “Everything,” he says, entranced. Who could say anything else, with Alex looking at them like that?

Alex smiles. It’s nothing like his usual smiles; there’s no cockiness in it at all. “Of course, my dear boy. But at the moment? Specifically?”

“Are you trying to kill me,” John growls, low in his throat. He leaves the wall. He crowds into Alex’s space, this time, crushing together not just their mouths but all of their bodies from head to toe. He runs his arms roughly down Alex’s back and pulls in him as close as he can. This is everything he wants in the world, and he’d die for it, kill for it -

But he doesn’t have to, it seems. Alex moans, and wriggles, too, to fit them ever more closely together, destroying every last bit of space that might have been left between them. The hot line of his cock now burns like a brand against John’s thigh, marking him like one, claiming him. It’s irresistible.

He has to touch it. And so he jams his hand in between their two bodies, fingers searching for the merest crack, like prying open a stuck door. Alex shifts just barely enough to give him room.

Alex’s cock is shockingly stiff, unyielding to his touch. It’s straining at the fabric that holds it, yearning to escape from its confines, which is, exactly, how John feels, too. There’s a spot of wet at the tip, which John presses on experimentally with his thumb. Alex groan. Nothing has ever felt so good, but he wants to feel even more, and the fabric of Alex’s breeches keeping him from touching skin is maddening.

“May I?” he asks. He doesn’t elaborate on what he means, but his fingers already brush over Alex’s laces.

“Please,” Alex says, voice rough.

So John undoes Alex’s breeches like this: crowded, one-handed, clumsy. He gets Alex’s cock in his hand. His hand feels like it was made to fit around it. Moving the smooth skin up and down is addictive, immediately, not only feeling but reveling in the texture of the soft surface over the strength of hardness in his hand. It’s even better when Alex starts to move in time with him.

Then Alex pushes him away, and says “stop,” and the whole world comes crashing down around John. He freezes in place. Has he somehow tricked or bewitched Alex into coming down this road with him? Into exploring desires he hadn’t even known he harbored, until now? - but maybe Alex hadn’t felt them. John had pushed them on him, by kissing him, though he couldn’t imagine how, and no possible apology could even begin to suffice.

Alex’s mouth twists into a frown, and he says, “can I touch you, too?”

Everything in the world springs back up. Off of John’s shoulders, the unbearable weight, the wreckage off the ground, floating in midair or back to its place, because now -

Alex reaches forwards into the small space between them. He opens John’s breeches, inside of which John’s cock is still impossibly, heedlessly, hard. And Alex touches it and John can’t remember where the world is at all.

No. That’s not true. The world is here. It’s Alex’s hand on his cock, his fingers, those knobby fingers John always watches as they write, curling around the shaft, and pulling hard. It’s Alex’s thumb gliding back and forth over the sensitive head. The sight of the purple tip of John’s cock disappearing and reappearing inside Alex’s not-quite-closed fist is a revelation, the truest sight he’s ever seen. It hits him so hard he can barely breathe, can’t move until Alex whispers into his ear, sounding amused, sounding somehow like this is easy for him, “you can move, Laurens.” And that’s it. He jerks back and forth into Alex’s hand - just a couple times, then a couple more, and then he’s coming all over himself.

For one endless moment the color seems to have gone out of the world. Everything’s bright, and shining with light, as if he’s been lifted up to heaven.

And then….

And then. He’s twitching and softening, in Alex’s grip, again. He opens his eyes, and Alex is licking John’s release off of his own fingers. He’s depraved, and it’s disgusting, and John’s cock twitches yet again.

“That was quick,” Alex says. He looks relaxed. John’s never seen this smile before either.

“I’m sorry?” he offers.

“I don’t mind.” And then Alex’s smile shades back into the vulnerability that John had seen earlier. “If you’d rather not...” he says, but John interrupts him before he can finish.

“Don’t be a fool.” He’s reaching into Alex’s breeches again, because even with his own desire banked, there’s no way that he could resist both what remains of it and Alex’s desire too.

Alex bats his hand away in the process of pushing off his own breeches, and then strips off his shirt, too. He quirks an eyebrow at John, who’s watching, impressed and appreciative. “Will you join me?”

It’s strangely innocent, undressing, after what they just did. John associates it with swimming, with sharing rooms with friends at school. And of course he has been in front of Alex, since the first night they met. But this is the first time, with Alex looking at his body as he takes off his clothes piece by piece, that he feels visible without them.

Alex takes his hand and pulls him down onto his own bed, because it’s closer, nearer the door, so that they’re lying on their sides, facing each other. Alex’s eyes are dark and large, staring so seriously, his mouth is hanging open, and his right hand is splayed lightly resting on the jut of John’s hipbone. And his cock, still hot and hard, is nudging the inside of John’s thigh.

John wants nothing, in the world probably, more than to touch it again. And Alex doesn’t seem to object, and so he does. It feels somehow even more necessary than it did a few scant minutes ago.

He hitches closer on the scratchy homespun sheet, and Alex does too, so that their legs are wrapped partially and awkwardly around each others’. Alex’s hand falls from his hip onto the meat of his ass, and John rocks automatically back into it. Why should that feel so good - ?

He knows that he shouldn’t be doing this. But he can’t imagine how he’s supposed to stop when there are so many things that feel so good that he can’t even know the half of them yet.

Alex’s cock is a little slick now with the fluid it’s been leaking in his hand, and Alex is rolling rhythmically into him, limbs draped over his body, head bent onto his shoulder and that runaway mouth working with no higher purpose at all behind it for once. Only saying things like, “yeah, that’s it,” and “just like that,” and “please, Laurens, just a little more -”

 _John_ , he thinks. But it’s no matter.

The encouragement in Alex’s voice spurs him on as if they were one creature, a centaur, as if he were a horse being ridden and whipped breathless coming to the end of a relay. He speeds up along with its cadence, carried on the rises and falls, and when the stream of words breaks up into sighs and sounds impossible to describe, he picks up the pace one last time, and Alex comes all over his hand. John eyes it warily. Alex had licked up his unhesitatingly, but he’s not sure he wants to follow suit.

He brings his soiled hand up to Alex’s mouth, and Alex licks it clean, too. He seems to relish suckling on each of John’s fingers in turn, swirling his tongue around them and only reluctantly letting them pop back out of the circle of his mouth. God.

Alex’s right hand is still where it fell, earlier, back on John’s ass, and now he’s idly dragging a finger back and forth, up and down the crease between the two halves of it. John feels uncomfortably like he could be ready to go again. It wouldn’t take much to make him hard - well, not much from Alex. Martha could barely do it with all the skill she could bear to bring… but why was he thinking about Martha now?

Why hadn’t he thought about Martha up till now, that would be the better question, but he refuses to acknowledge it.

Alex turns over in bed. The motion pulls his remaining arm off John, and presents his back to John’s front. “Good night,” he says, facing away. “Can you get the candle?”

John stumbles out of bed. The floorboards themselves seem slightly misplaced, though no doubt they haven’t moved. Of course he can get the candle, though, and he blows it out, too, before he deposits it onto the shelf where it belongs. Then he climbs back into his bed, and lies down flat on his back. The point of his right elbow and the side of his right calf are the only points of contact with Alex’s body. If it weren’t for them, he could almost imagine he was sleeping alone.

Alex’s breathing is slow and even. If he’s not already asleep, then he’s at least well on the way to being so. John envies him.

Because he’s lying here, next to Alex, and remembering everything they just did. He can’t forget. Without planning or thinking about it, he’s cupping his cock in his hand, and though it can’t compare to holding Alex’s, or vice versa, he can’t seem to make himself stop.

Thinking about the comparison makes him give it a warning squeeze. And then another, and then another, and then he manages to force his hands down, fingers digging into the sheet stretched on either side of him.

He needs to go to sleep. That’s the only way to escape this torture of desire. He can’t believe what he’s done, and he still can’t stop wanting to do more of it. What is wrong with him! Will he ever be able to control himself again? Because he’d thought that he could, but now that he knows where all the temptations lead… he curses himself. Why can’t he burn this desire out of his head.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic 'verse updates every Tuesday and Thursday. Many (many) relationships will be featured, both platonic and romantic and/or sexual. ... the ultimate endgame 'ship is Alex/Laurens + Alex/Eliza + Alex/Angelica.
> 
> Comments are love! Talk to me here or on tumblr as [multsicorn.](http://multsicorn.tumblr.com)


End file.
